


Our Lullabies

by AbaddonKhaleesi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Pack Family, School Romance, slytherin weasley, slytherin/ravenclaw relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbaddonKhaleesi/pseuds/AbaddonKhaleesi
Summary: Dominique is the second daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley; she has been relegated to being the second to her sister, and even to her little brother. She loves them, and she knows she is loved but she has always felt as the odd one out; she is the weird daughter, the odd cousin, the strange Weasley, the one that doesn’t fit.However, as she'll know, those things that make her weird or strange, are the thngs that make her unique and more special than what she things she is.





	1. Whatever pt. 1

**Whatever**

_“Where's your will to be weird?”_ ― Jim Morrison.

* * *

 

Dominique is the odd one out.

She knows this since she is capable of expressing her own thoughts and turning words into sentences with sense. She is not as pretty as Victoire, nor as clever as Louis. She is just what she is: Dominique.

_Whatever that means_

She knows is not something that can make her parents hate her or belittle her. It almost seems as if they couldn’t notice, but she _does_ notice; that something is a little bit off about herself and that maybe her parents are compensating for that something. Dominique can tell is not something physical.

She has her father’s hair and freckles and face; she has her mother’s nose and her dimples when she laughs. However, she is not the natural beauty that is Victoire, who only needs the light to look as a beautiful apparition (the vela blood went all to her); she looks too rough, too wild, Dominique thinks, with her odd square jaw and what she thinks is way too many freckles on her face and just the Weasley face ( _whatever that meant_ ).

But she thinks she is clever and resilient; more times than not she has found ways to get herself out of troubles at home, with her cousins or her siblings (and most of the time, _from them_ ); but still she is not book smart like Louis, who just simply _knows_ everything. And he always _knows_ and _learns_ and she cannot fathom how that can even work in such a small boy.

Even at home, is a weird relationship the one everybody has in her house; her mother is not like her grandmother; he is not an ordinary housewife, she thinks. Fleur is always doing something and learning and working, like her dad. Sometimes she stays at home for long periods of time, but she knows that once everybody is in Hogwarts, she’ll return to her full-time job at Gringotts.

Her father loves staying at home, and he had devoted time and space to order his house and leave it as beautiful as he can picture it. Dominique just loves him so dearly is hard to imagine not being his favorite daughter (even if she knows she is his favorite).

The queen of the house is still Victoire with her easy manners, always the proper lady; so pristine and ready to please, that it makes Dominique wonder if she does that on purpose or if is just the way her sister is; Louis is just him, with his quick wit  and his easy attitude. He was very calm and collected, unlike her and unlike the manners of her sister. He always knew how to say things and when to say them.

Granny Molly always tells them how proud she feels of them (Victoire and Louis) and how much Dominique reminds her of herself.

_Whatever that meant_

Because Dominique knew there was something strange with her. She loved to climb trees and was the best at that; and she was cunning and shrewd like a fox and she loved to hang out with the weird sort of people (not that there’s not weird people in the Weasley family); and still, still! It made her feel so different, so… _alien_. Her father told her that her aunt Ginny was just like her, and she was so normal but there was _something_ , Dominique just knew there was _something_.

And then she found out.

She sat down for just a minute, was what Victoire told her the next day, but Dominique felt as if an hour came and went without her being capable of running away. The Sorting Hat felt heavy on her head, even though it was just an old piece of cloth.

There were a lot of words in her head, and questions, and she could almost pin point the train of thought of the god forsaken hat that just kept ruminating through her head that she almost forgot to listen what he said.

**“SLYTHERIN!”**

Everything went quiet. Dominique didn’t move an inch of her body. _What?_ Something cold crept through her hands, already slimy by the sweat in her palms, and when the Hat was removed from her head, she could tell that the whole world was silent (or just her); because, even if she saw the Slytherins’ clapping with excitement and wicked curiosity in their eyes, she could tell that the rest of the Houses were mute with surprise.

Some odd claps sounded here and there, but the low murmur of the students was overwhelming. “ _Did you hear?”; “They say she is a Weasley, aren’t Weasley’s supposed to be Gryffindors?”; “What does this means?”; “I heard her sister is in Huffepuff”; “What a shame!”_

Dominique sat down next to a Slytherin girl, and her eyes were so wide and terrified that some of her new classmates ( _she could not believe that_ ) just gave her quick glances and some soothing words, not bothering to ask her any other questions. Some felt pity for her ( _and she dreaded that feeling_ ); some of them wondered why it was so weird ( _and she wanted to hide behind the walls and disappear forever_ ); and most of them, specially the sons and daughters of pure blood families, just laughed at her ( _and she just wanted to die_ ); after all, her family was a traitors family...

Suddenly, everything came to make sense and she could almost picture the faces of her family, so overcome by grief and a dumb wonder of how could Bill’s second daughter end up in Slytherin. They’ll blame her mother and her _veela_ heritage and she could almost scream at her younger self for not accepting to go to Beauxbatons those years ago, just to avoid the shame that she is feeling; and worse her family and _oh god, how could she_?


	2. Youngsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominique is different, and that's something that just tires her and she doesn't know where to begin with explaining why she thinks she is weird and why she thinks she is not...
> 
> But when opportunity arises in the form of a silent family friend, she'll take it. No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to put first the fct that Dominique ends up in Slytherin, because I' very bad with the suspense of that, and with that I just write bckwards and then forward. The first chapters are a bit of establishment of how Dominique ended up in her situation. For what I can tell, there are going to be 20 chapters, but I'm not entirely sure. May be more, may be less.
> 
> And the inspiration for Nymphadora is the likeness of Archduchess Olga Romanov.

**Youngsters**

_“The future for me is already a thing of the past -_

_You were my first love and you will be my last”_ ― Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan - Love and Theft: Piano/Vocal/Guitar

* * *

 

Dominique was three years old when she met Nymphadora Crowley and her whole family. She was sure they had met before that day, but is so fuzzy in her mind that she doesn’t even bother to think if that was the case; she is just happy to see no-red heads for the very first time in her life and the sight of it is curious for her three year old mind.

The Crowley’s are an odd family, but Dominique isn’t sure of how or why; she knows they have a grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, a slender lady, around her Granny’s age who, however, held herself as if she were much younger; then came her niece (who Dominique thought it was her daughter), Aunt Cara who wore a cold expression when her husband was around, but as soon as he went away, she was making practical jokes and simply goofing with her children and other people’s children; her husband was Aleksander Crowley and he was cold and, as her mother put it, plain rude. Mother disliked him, and when they left, she muttered how sad she felt for Cara for marrying such a gloomy guy.

They had a kid, who was in reality their nephew: Ted Tonks and he was always so much fun to have around, because he could change his appearance at will and Dominique just loved to see that; one time, she almost choked with her juice while he made her laugh so hard; but the Crowley’s had two actual children and a third one to come (for what Dominique gathered that day).

The oldest was named Nymphadora, and she was just like her father, too severe for her five years; and like her mother she carried that grave face everywhere she went, but unlike her, she kept it. Neither Victoire nor Dominique sat down next to her during that day and the only one who made her part of the games was Teddy, because they lived together and, apparently, she was nicer with him.

She had a little brother called Aleister, but he was just a baby and was most of the time close to her mother or sleeping, so there weren’t more playing partners.

That was the first time they met, and Dominique barely remembers any other impression that Nymphadora ever gave her, and for a long time she shared her mother’ opinion, that she was just a gloomy person like her father; however things changed after her seventh birthday.

Her aunt Gabrielle had come to pay a visit, since she was close to getting married and wanted to invite her sister and nephews.

During that day and that conversation, Gabrielle suggested the idea of taking Dominique with her to study at Beauxbatons, because it was apparent that the Weasley family couldn’t put all of their children in Hogwarts. Her parents looked like they were seriously considering sending her away, and for a moment, Dominique thought she could have died then and there.

Dominique remembers the panic slowly arising on her throat and stomach, making her feel so sick and utterly anxious she still wonders how she was capable of managing to keep the food in her stomach. A part of her loved the idea of going to the same school that her mother attended, but this was the time when she was completely sure that there was something off about her, but just leaving was like giving her family all the more reasons to probe she wasn’t a Weasley, and that there was something off about her.

She fought tooth and nail against this; she yelled and screamed at her parents and hid in her shared bedroom.

“WHY DON’T YOU SEND VICTOIRE?!” was her over the top scream, after she had locked herself up, throwing every single furniture available to her 7 years old strength. She was crying so hard and breathing with such difficult, sh could very well lose consciousness for all the effort.

“Dominique, you’re overreacting. It was just a question” her father was speaking slowly through the door, and she felt bad for making him feel bad. “You know we don’t want to get rid of you; sweetie, please come out.”

When things finally calmed down (the next morning), Bill asked her daughter the meaning behind that reaction. Dominique only shrug feeling very small and insecure, incapable of explaining the whirlwind or emotion inside her mind that exploded every time someone suggested the idea of her being sent away or not being a true Weasley.

She knew that her father loved her very much, and that he would dismiss her worries with easy words and just a pleasant smile, but Dominique knew that this time that wouldn’t work for her.

That summer, the Crowley’s came once more, but this time, there’s not Aleksander Crowley in sight, and aunt Cara has two more children with her: small Regulus of three years old, and baby Minerva of three months. It was the summer holiday and everybody was there, from her grandparents to her Potter cousins and she, for some reason, felt incredible ill.

She couldn’t put her mind into motion to explain why she felt like a pariah inside her own family and why she didn’t have the energy to deal with all of them or try to put a happy face and just try to forget her own uneasiness; she wanted to be alone and brood.

And the opportunity sat down next to a tree.

It was one of the few big trees in the small cottage. Her parents loved living next to the beach, and she agreed that the weather was better there and they had the opportunity of having a beautiful garden and the sea so close to them (Dominique assumed this was the reason behind her freckles, but dad dissuades her). Nymphadora was reading a book, sitting on the small white bench they had just recently changed; she was completely alien to whatever happened around her, way too focused on whatever she had in front of her that it appeared as she didn’t notice Dominique silently sitting next to her.

This wasn’t the first time Dominique noticed how much Nymphadora did not belong there; she stood like a sore thumb amongst the happy crowd of the Weasley’, Potter’ and Black’ (as her mother said, in order to avoid the Crowley name) families. She wasn’t sure why, but the cold demeanor of Nymphadora made her attractive in this kind of situation, and she was glad that the brunette didn’t acknowledge her.

Perhaps it was her cold aura or her serene way. But still she was weird, she was sure that no nine year old was like Nymphadora. Not even cousin Molly was like her and she was just so annoying…

Dominique kept on brooding, ruminating on her own thoughts and wondering how she was supposed to deal with everything inside her head and why she just didn’t feel like joining the crowd that was happily swimming and playing on the beach. Slowly, without her fully noticing, her eyes kept drifting between her knees and Nymphadora, and suddenly her own thoughts began studying Nymphadora.

She was wondering how many times had she ever heard her speak, or if she ever spoke before. She wasn’t sure of the color of her eyes or if she had freckles on her face, and why she kept reading? What was she reading, to begin with? How did she like herself to be called? Was her forehead so big? And why her nose looked like a button and…

“Stop it”, Nymphadora side glanced at her. She had lowered her book slowly, and looked annoyed.

“What”, was Dominique’s dry answer, while the red started to creep through her face, ashamed of being caught staring at her. ”I did nothing! In fact, I said nothing.”

“You’re brooding” it was that way, so matter of fact that Dominique could quickly register that Nymphadora never spoke tentatively, but with that no-nonsense tone; she almost liked it. “What is it?” Dominique had to frown at that. How could she tell she was brooding? And why she cared, to begin with.

“I’m thinking”, the slow hum that came from Nymphadora distracted her for a moment, and she frowned harder. “Don’t you worry when people think you’re strange and that you don’t fit in?” her words were met with silence. ”Well I do worry, and I see that _you_ don’t but _I_ do and I’m worried _I_ don’t belong.”

Nymphadora lowered her book; there was a sharp contrast in the way her face lifted the attention from the book to her partner. Her small hands with long fingers closed the book and put it on the ground, in front of her feet and finally looked at her, with her green eyes, that almost looked hazel.

“Why do you care?” but her words were met with the silent expectation of a Dominique who had just lost her words looking her.

There were no freckles on her strong face and she looked almost pretty, when she was not looking angry or bored. Her nose was button like, short but with a little up form and her whole features looked small in her face, with her huge forehead that she was trying to hide with recently cut bangs.

She was prettier than Dominique ever cared to mind, and for a moment her mind was just blank.

“Dominique?”

“Huh?”

“Did you even listened to me, or you were busy looking at my forehead?” there was no frown, but a small smile that made Dominique’s heart leap with joy. She can smile!

“What? Of course not, but the echo of the beach distracted me. What were you saying?”

Nymphadora shrugged slowly and just began again. The small smile never faded and Dominique felt an odd excitement bubbling in her chest. “Why do you care?”

“Why you don’t care?”

Both girls looked at each other, and Dominique could bet that Nymphadora was looking at her for the very first time, as she had just found out something incredibly interesting, because there was no other way to explain why she felt so scrutinized by that hazel gaze.

Dominique is almost sure that’s when she found out she really enjoyed Nymphadora’s company.


	3. Feeling OK

**Feeling OK**

_“Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness.”_ ― Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness

* * *

 

So Dominique starts to hang out more and more with the odd person of the Crowley family and it seems like is the natural way of how things are supposed to evolve. Nobody messes with her more than they used to, and for most of the time she thinks, for the very first time, that being weird is not that bad.

Not all the summers the Crowley’ family comes, but that doesn’t stop Dominique and Nymphadora from writing to each other. She is happy to have a friend outside of her siblings or cousins, and Nymphadora seems like the perfect companion, even when she is away.

Sometimes, when they are out on vacation, the letters turn to be even longer, as if they were trying to stretch their arms as far away as they could to show the other what they are seeing or how are they feeling. Nymphadora tells her about Russia and her Russian family; how the winters are harsh but beautiful in an almost breathtaking way; tells her about the food and the quirks of her relatives and how much she _wished_ she could be there; and Dominique explains with great detail how are the summers on France, the taste of the food and the delicate perfume that always floats around her grandparents house and how much she likes being on the French beaches.

“They almost feel like home”, she writes her one day. Her mother seemed happy seeing her writing or even caring for something else than her internal angst and the fact that she was also practicing her writing skills pleased her the most. Perhaps, Dominique thought, it was the fact that she looked _happy_ when she wrote.

“I love beaches”, was Nymphadora’ response on a postcard from Yekaterinburg and Dominique feels that these three words have way more meaning than she can see directly.

The time moves slowly when she is having fun, and that is something that she finds entertaining, but when she doesn’t expect it, he is already turning nine years old and Victoire is preparing herself to go to Hogwarts. As well as Nymphadora.

And she is very excited for the both of them, but a slow burning idea starts to form on the back of her head when the news of Victoire’ assignation on Hufflepuff and Nymphadora on Ravenclaw with cousin Molly arrive. Is not the idea of the Houses (though, that thought begins to form as well), but the slow burning sensation of something that could be called: jealousy.

What if Nymphadora found herself with new friends, and cooler people than her? Dominique still had to wait two more years, and she was completely sure that she wouldn’t be on Ravenclaw with clever Nymphadora; but the possibility of her spending more time with other people and even finding a boyfriend…

That idea is what makes her stop dead on her tracks.

Louis is with her and they’re helping at home, cleaning or something that she no longer cares about. Her hands are frozen over the table and her eyes could be considered vacant at that moment; lost in thought and frozen on an idea far away from her. Why was she jealous or worried about Nymphadora having a boyfriend? Is not like she is not… Well, Dominique isn’t sure she’ll have a boyfriend because she hasn’t met a boy that she can say she likes and…

“Dominique, are you OK?” Louis voice takes her out of her thoughts and she nods violently, looking at her brother’s eyes in a vague attempt to look calm.

“Of course I am, silly; I was just thinking” but Louis gaze is still on her, analyzing her every expression. She was sure that he was mapping out her words and registering them, completely aware that her sister was not fine and she pretty well could use a little of help.

“You look sick.” And he doesn’t say more. Dominique hates that, and quickly dismisses her thoughts, choosing to leave them for later that night. Is perhaps the idea that Louis knows more than he cares to explain or share with her, and that leaves Dominique on a cold spot all the time, because is like an invitation for her to say what is wrong at the moment.

Being a nine year old is hard (or that’s what she tells everybody who asks her why she is so anxious). There is a lot of pressure and her thoughts are mostly train wrecks that can only find solace in the simple small things, like not thinking too hard on the future or on her feelings about things.

However, for Dominique is easy to keep on a façade of being happy and serene and writes a quick letter to Nymphadora, congratulating her for her place in Ravenclaw and wishing her to find the best of friends there. That leaves a bitter taste on Dominique’s mouth, but she chooses to ignore it and keep on with her life.

She had almost forgotten the letter when, three weeks later, she receives a response from Nymphadora, long and explicit of her days on Hogwarts and a small note at the end of it all:

“You’re still my best friend. I miss you too.”

(Dominique doesn’t know how or why she didn’t burst into flames right there, but she is sure that her parents noticed how happy and embarrassed she looked and they soon took note of her behavior; but for the very first time, she doesn’t mind being weird or odd and wants to capture this moment in time and understand what is it that she is feeling right now.)

“I miss you too, Dora! Come visit on summer or I’ll ask my mom if I can go visit you!”

The days came and went, but when Nymphadora one day comes during summer and stays at her house and they sleep together (even if she is Victoire’ new friend, Dominique feels that the two of them are way closer than whatever her sister can be); Dominique gets a small glimpse of what could turn out to be a tragedy in the future.

The brunette is taller than before and slimmer; her features now fit correctly on her face and she looks prettier and that breaks Dominique’s heart for an unknown reason. She is still wearing that tiny smile that never fully expands on her thin lips, but that Dominique knows is just for her, and she just jumps at her best friend in a long and happy embrace.

Nymphadora doesn’t talk that much and most of their conversations are of Dominique speaking her heart out to the silent girl; they go from talking about the weather on the Shell Cottage to Dominique’s expectations of life in Hogwarts; and then meeting that intense gaze that just tells her exactly what she has been thinking and agreeing.

However, this time, Nymphadora suddenly is unexpectedly talkative, trying to express something that is lost to Dominique (at that time), and it seems Nymphadora is well aware of that, so she silently drops the premature theme, with the silent promise of being taken again.

“I hope you could enter to Hogwarts sooner”, Nymphadora offers, looking at the sea, next to Dominique. The soft breeze of the night moves their hair and they feel incredibly warm.

Dominique smiles, and side glances at Nymphadora. “Will you still be my friend even if I’m younger?”

“Of course I won’t; you are my friend, after all”, Dominique laughed with all her heart and sighs. “Even if you’re younger than me, you’re pretty nice.”

“You’re making me blush!”

There is a silent moment, and Dominique feels this has said something wrong, but is Nymphadora complete smile that takes her off guard.

“You’re not blushing!” and she stood up, leaving to the house. “You’re not coming?”

( _This wouldn’t be the first time they had this conversation, and Dominique can feel inside herself that Nymphadora hasn’t told her something important.)_

She is ten, but she is not stupid; there was something in the way that smile came (literally, out of nowhere) that made her feel as if she had just missed something important from the conversation. But she sees no point in mentioning it, so she stands up, cleans herself from the sand and follows her from the path to the house, but before she walks next to her, she pushes her lightly and sprints to the house, laughing like a mad woman and Nymphadora is quick to follow her.

And she feels OK.


	4. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Hogwarts, there's always room for thoughts.
> 
> And wishes for a better tomorrow.

For the last hours of her summer (or how she feels is her last summer feeling sort of normal is going to end), Dominique has been thinking about _brown._

There is something about the brown of the earth that makes her space out; for a moment, she is just thinking about the soft Earth on her feet, and the next she is thinking of her impending doom and her soon-to-happen school year at Hogwarts; her mind seems to spiral all the time around different things and topics and she wonders why she is so easily distracted, and why, most of the time, she is not really thinking about Hogwarts; as if her initial thoughts do not belong to her but to some other kind of thing; as if her mind had just been acquired by some other irrational thing that just _doesn’t go away_.

She’s been sitting at the newly swing that her father so religiously had made during the summer; the weather has been soft and almost forgiving of her, allowing her to be as far away from home as she wants without worrying of her siblings perky eyes or her parents’ usual worry. Is on this moments where she allows her mind to wander; and recently, it has been the thought of brown and what it means that doesn’t let her stay calm.

She sees, going through her eyelids the dullness of the potions her father drinks when the full moon approaches; the soft feeling of the dark brown earth when rain has fallen earlier that night; the delicious sensation of the melting chocolate inside her mouth; and the softness of curly hair pressed against her face.

And is that last thought that leaves her a bit colder than usual.

Brown is always followed by soft green, pearly white teeth and freckled skin ( _yes, she has freckles and she feels she can love those freckles better than hers_ ); and her hands feel clumsy and her heart skips a beat and there’s so much redness creeping on her face she feels she might burst.

And still, _still,_ she can’t name that feeling and why her best friend makes her feel that way, besides the fact that she is an odd person and there’s nothing she can do against that.

Yet

So she begins to rationalize what is happening, and quickly is reached by the idea that is just gratitude. Nymphadora has been the only person around her who gladly smiles at her and endures staying with her. It can’t be different than that, that’s what she tells herself, because, at the end of the day, is nothing more but real friendly love she feels towards her.

Right?

Is that final thought that slowly comforts her and that pushes her out of the swing and breath calmly. Things were just about to get better, she felt. It’s impossible for things to get worse.

Impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; life and work happened and I wasn't sure how to write the following chapters. I try to be lineal, but I'm always tempted to write in a non-lineal way because that's how my mind works.
> 
> Anyway, I hope next chapter comes faster. Is going to be longer, I can assure you that, though.


	5. Green

_“It’s not that easy being green”._ Kermit the Frog

* * *

  
“ _Green suits you.”_

Dominique has spent part of her day just moping around, trying to fit better on that new uniform, on that new school, on her new bed, in the common room of the Slytherin girls and she still hasn’t found a way to properly fit there.

(She keeps wondering if she’ll be able to fit properly in there for the following seven years.)

After the Selection, Dominique has barely eaten a thing. She was so sick and nervous with the course of events, she was oblivious to the soft chat around her. One of her new classmates was trying to obtain some sort of reaction from her, asking her questions and just trying to be pleasant, but Dominique was just so out of it, it was hard to even focus on the delicious food that was sprawled in front of her. At the end of the evening, everybody was almost too tired and full of food to pay attention to her internal drama and left her alone just to walk to the Slytherin Common Room.

She remembered, though, as she was sitting on that new table, trying to recollect what went wrong with her Sorting Selection, how things looked from that high chair.  
She saw her sister, with her beautiful long blonde hair, smiling at her and just so dreadfully happy; near to her was Teddy Lupin with his cyan hair and a beaming expression on his long face; she couldn’t comprehend why the Hufflepuff looked so happy, were they expecting her to end up in there? With them? It wouldn’t be out of character for Victoire to have her next to her, and that thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

On the next table, she saw the silver and blue of the Ravenclaw and her cousin Molly, looking above the heads of the oldest Ravens; she couldn’t expect Dominique to end in Ravenclaw, and it was painfully obvious that she was just an attraction for her cousin. It came as almost an afterthought that she searched for those well-known hazel eyes.

Nymphadora looked serene, though curious. A small smile was displayed on her lips, as some sort of help for the nervous Weasley.

It was, however, the red bright hair of her cousin Lucy that kept her attention. She was the sister of Molly and, although close in age, they never stayed too much around the other, being too different for each other to actually spend quality time together. For the first time, however, she wanted to talk to Lucy and to be certain that things were about to be ok, and that she shouldn’t be worrying so much.

And then, she remembers the black and the dread and now she was there, walking the dead men walk.

She felt tired, worn out and obviously depressed. Not even the great marvels of the castle could take her out of her deep anxiety. Everybody at home would feel so upset and she could almost hear her uncles repeating those awful questions that she just kept hearing from her new house mates.

Suddenly, everyone came to a sudden halt; she bumped with one girl, and whispered an apology that the girl ignored, instead looking with marvel at the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room. There was fuzz, some instructions and the password to enter the Slytherin Dungeon. Dominique felt ill at the sight of the entrance and she felt her fate was sealed. There was no turning back, for sure. Her hands were cold and covered in sweat and for a long moment, Dominique wondered if it would be very bad for her to just die in that spot.

Going in, there was so much green.

For a moment, Dominique forgot her utter disappointment and her internal anxiety got replaced by marvel. The place was gigantic, full of snake ornaments; yes, a bit opulent, but still there was something so beautiful and magnetic around the place. It felt comfortable, as if it was made just to make these people (her as well), at home.

“As I was telling you, for all of us is very important that the new students feel comfortable”, the Prefect was saying; he had long auburn hair and a crooked nose and his voice, although high, it was painfully obvious that he was still at the middle of puberty, Dominique had forgotten his name the moment he pronounced it and she felt bad for that. “We know that this is nothing like the homely Hufflepuff place or the high towers of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, but this will be your home for the next seven years and, as friends we want you to feel at home.” There was a sincere smile on his lips while he looked at the new students and Dominique almost felt comforted. “If you feel you need lighter or brightness, the elders are always happy to put a spell on your curtains or you can learn how to brighten up the spaces. Please, don’t fear us, we are your friends and always remember that Slytherins always stick together.”

He proceeded to explain the sleeping arrangements and his companion, the female Prefect started to invite the new girls to their common room.

She had never expected that introduction. For all the stories and bad policies about Slytherin, she expected a harsh welcome, mocking of all sorts and a sort of “look out for yourself” attitude. However, she felt, welcomed.

Inside her mind, she could replay all the times she heard Uncle Ron talk on and on of how awful Slytherins were, and how many Dark wizards have come from there and how you could never make good friends with a Slytherin.

However, once she woke up from a well-deserved night of sleep and realized how green everything is she felt the dread once more. And so, like that, her first week begins: avoiding her new classmates, being rude and just trying to disappear every time Victoire or somebody else tries to confront her or ask her things. On class she ignores team work and dreads with such a strong commitment when Slytherin shares room with Gryffindor because there is Lucy, the first Weasley in Gryffindor since her uncles attended Hogwarts…, and is just as reclusive as she can because, in her mind, she can read the awful words that her uncle Ron had said over and over about how awful Slytherins are, and that never, in the story of the Weasleys, has any of them ended up there. Has she forgotten that Lord Voldemort came out of here?!

No matter how much her classmates tried to include her and be nice to her, and even one of the girls, Rhonda, decorated her bed thinking that it was Dominique being scared of the ominous dark of the shared room what made her be so aloof with everybody. And Dominique did not have the heart to deny this or even to say a thing as of thanks. They tried so hard, but they always came to realizes that it was useless: Dominique was afraid of her own shadow and didn’t want to be there.

Her first day, she half expected for carts to flood with angry words and the expectancy of her changing Houses (was that even possible? she wonderer that morning). But what she received was only a handful of letters: one from her parents congratulating her and expecting for her to have an excellent beginning of year (and she was sure this was the breaking point for her parents to see just how odd she was); one from her Delacour grandparents with candies and things to share with her new classmates (she made sure to put some things for them, but never spoke a thing about it); another from her Weasley grandparents and the other from her aunt Gabriele and… well, that was it. She almost felt, underwhelmed.

By Tuesday she was just going around the place, wondering if the angry letters would come at any moment, but Wednesday came, and Thursday and when Friday reached her finally: nada. Nothing at all.

For all those days, she saw Lucy receiving all kinds of cards and presents and even, at one point, she had attempted to talk to Dominique and congratulate her, but Dominique was faster and before the other had a chance to come anywhere near her, she had ran away, as fast as her legs had allowed her.

She sighed, letting her legs swing from the tree and watching all her classmates, easily spending their first Friday while she was just there, brooding and wanting to be part of it all and, at the same time, not wanting to be there at all; but it was a familiar voice that almost threw her from the tree.

“Green suits you”, Nymphadora was smiling, with her brown curls trapped inside a high pony-tail.

“Shut up”, Dominique didn’t bother to leave the tree; she wanted to hide and brood alone.

“Can I come up? My neck hurts if I move it in awkward positions” Dominique side-eyed her so hard she swore her look would have killed the other girl, but Nymphadora only waited for her approval signal, and once she got it, she climbed easily and sat down next to her, looking at the Forbidden Forest, not making a sound.

Dominique had begun chewing her lips. Why she couldn’t move her neck in awkward positions? Why she wasn’t saying a thing? Why she wasn’t condemning her? Why was she so calm and why she always expected her to begin talking?

Nymphadora’ silence was maddening, and it was something that Dominique never understood and always made her lose her mind. “Why you can’t move your neck?”

The brunette looked her and took her sweet time before responding. “Oh, I just felt from my broomstick.”

“What?!” Dominique almost fell (again). “How so? You never fall from that broomstick; dad says that is as if you were born on one of those!”

Nymphadora laughs with her small laugh and that soft smile that rarely reaches her eyes, and Dominique almost forgets her worries.

“Is normal to fall from a broomstick, Dominique”, there’s something gentle and secure in the way she says her name that makes her feel as if something warm was blooming on her chest. “Don’t worry, is only the aching in the neck, but nothing else; Madame Pompfrey already checked me.”

Dominique nodded once and looked at the grass.

“I was worried about you, though.”

The redheaded couldn’t control herself and just sighed. This was not how she expected this to happen.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, although I have nothing else to ask you at the moment.” Dominique frowned. This is not what she’s expecting to happen. She expects the big questions, she trying to answer in a passive-aggressive manner, not this odd calm that comes from Nymphadora. But of course, she’s talking with Nymphadora, so it only makes sense that she, Dominique, is the one that has to talk and leave everything out there.

Not this time. She stays silent too, her frown deepening and feeling her jaw clenching with so much force she’s sure she’s going to break her teeth. The silence is maddening and she gives up. She throws her hands at the air and lets an exasperate groan out of her mouth and covers her face with her hands.

“I hate everything! Green doesn’t suit me, I’m a disgrace to the family, how am I supposed to look at them on Christmas?! I should’ve moved to Beauxboutons when I had the chance. I am a Weasley, what is wrong with me?!”, she feels exhausted but her mouth is only beginning to let out all of her thoughts.

“I always thought that, OK, fine, I am weird but not like this. Do you know what is the opinion of the family, of my uncle Ron? Slytherin’s are untrustworthy, and evil and everything you want. I see all the girls from ‘my’ house looking at me with pity in their eyes and even my sister looks at me as if she always knew I was broken.”

She finishes with a deep sigh and it takes her a couple of seconds to realize she had started crying in the middle of her outburst. She just wishes everything could end then and there.

A soft hand catches hers and she feels the gentle shift of a body moving in her direction. Nymphadora is hugging her and patting her shoulder ever so gently. Dominique feels better because she’s not really expecting to hear an opinion: she just wants to take the weight of the world out of her chest and be capable of breathing. She leans into her friend and cries until there are no more tears in her eyes.

* * *

 

They stayed there for what if felt like an eternity, and finally they exchange goodbyes. Nymphadora doesn’t say a word to her, but just smiles with that half smile that she always carries and her hands linger a bit too much in the green of Dominique’s tunic.

“I still think that green suits you, you just have to own it. You’re not broken, so just own Slytherin and prove to everybody that you’re Dominique Weasley, the greatest Slytherin out there and let them talk.”

The redhead stays in the courtyard watching her friend go, and she knows this is the most she’ll get out of her friend and she feels better for crying, for being listened and because she thinks that maybe she can grow into this Slytherin persona after all.

“It ain’t easy being green”, she whispers to herself and slowly but surely, makes her way to the Common Hall. Like hell she’ll let this tear her apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I am awful at this. This chapter had been sitting on my computer for months and then, plop, my computer exploded and I finished university and THEN I moved to France and life. I won't make promises: chapters will come when they'll come. Let's just hope it doesn't take me all my life.


End file.
